The Roman Question eBook

The Romans formed an exaggerated opinion of him at
his accession, and have done so ever since. In
1847, when he honestly manifested a desire to do good,
they called him a great man, whereas in point of fact
he was simply a worthy man who wished to act better
than his predecessors had done, and thereby to win
some applause from Europe. In 1859, he passes
for a violent re-actionist, because events have discouraged
his good intentions: and above all, because Cardinal
Antonelli, who masters him by fear, violently draws
him backwards. I consider him as meriting neither
past admiration nor present hatred. I pity him
for having loosened the rein upon his people, without
possessing the firmness requisite to restrain them
seasonably. I pity still more that infirmity
of character which now allows more evil to be done
in his name than he has ever himself done good.

The failure of all his enterprises, and three or four
accidents which happened in his presence, have given
rise to the popular belief that the Vicar of Jesus
Christ is what the Italians call jettatore—­in
other words, that he has the evil eye.
When he drives along the Corso, the old women fall
down on their knees, but they snap their fingers at
him beneath their cloaks.

The members of the Italian secret societies impute
to him—­though for other reasons—­all
the evils which afflict their country. It is
evident that the Italian question would be greatly
simplified, if there were no Pope at Rome; but the
hatred of the Mazzinists against Pius IX. is to be
condemned in all its personal aspects. They would
kill him to a certainty, if our troops were not there
to defend him. This murder would be as unjust
as that of Louis XVI., and as useless. The guillotine
would deprive a good old man of his life, but it would
not put an end to the bad principle of sacerdotal monarchy.

I did not seek an audience of Pius IX.; I neither
kissed his hand nor his slipper; the only mark of
attention I received from him was a few lines of insult
in the Giornale di Roma. Still, I never
can hear him accused without defending him.

Let my readers for a moment put themselves in the
place of this too illustrious and too unfortunate
old man. After having been for nearly two years
the favourite of public opinion, and the lion
of Europe, he found himself obliged to quit the Quirinal
palace at a moment’s notice. At Gaeta and
Portici he tasted those lingering hours which sour
the spirit of the exile. A grand and time-honoured
principle, of which the legitimacy is not doubtful
to him, was violated in his person. His advisers
unanimously said to him:

“It is your own fault. You
have endangered the monarchy by your ideas of
progress. The immobility of governments is the
sine qua non of the stability of thrones.
You will not doubt this, if you read again the
history of your predecessors.”